Confection
by phantomampersand
Summary: Valentine's Day is a fate much worse than obliteration by heat-seeking missiles, as far as Dib is concerned. ZADR drabble.


It was barely past 7:00 and he had almost turned back twice.

The purple shock of winter sky visible through the clouds crackled with promise of some sort of storm. Rain, sleet, hail, heat-seeking missiles. Whatever. Dib wished the temperamental weather could be considered a marginally good enough excuse to skip Skool, even though he had already trudged twenty minutes through the snow to arrive at his destination.

They were all well past the age where they were obligated to bring cards and candy for the whole class, however the sight of his classmates coupling off on this particular holiday made him more irritable than usual. He had never minded being alone for the entirety of his teenage life. By all means, he would usually much rather spend his time alone than interact with the great unwashed that consisted of his grade. Yet it was days like this that the entirety of his isolation struck him to the bone.

Not to mention the year before he had found not one, but three used condoms in separate stalls of the men's bathroom.

Frowning down at his boots, now soggy from the slushy pavement, he determined to not make eye contact with anyone he might pass as he crossed the courtyard. He was early, but there were always rough types tagging the brick walls of the gymnasium building or loitering to catch someone unawares.

"Dib-worm," A gloved palm collided with the top of his downcast forehead, stopping him in his tracks.

He grunted and skipped a step back, eyes flicking up at the extended arm in front of him.

"What do you want?" Despite his introversion, the habitual tone of paranoia crept in around his speech.

"I have questions for you, human,"

"Look, I'm not in the mood for any of your…" Dib's sentence died in his throat when he noticed the rigid body standing before him.

Angular cheeks flushed a subtle shade darker, jaw set rigid so his lips stretched into a thin, humorless line. His free arm was awkwardly tucked behind the small of his back, standing ramrod stiff with knees buckled unnaturally straight.

"Just come with me," Zim hissed and grabbed the human to yank him behind the stair wall.

The brick collided with Dib's back with a jolt. He winced at the cold crack that ran up his spine and wriggled his arm free of Zim's grasp.

"What the hell is your problem? I haven't even done anything to you yet,"

Zim was silent for a moment, a faint twitch of his eye the only exception to his stony glare, "It is the day of squishy love-pig feelings, is it not?"

Dib quirked an eyebrow, "Uh. Yeah Zim, it is. What's it to you?"

Was this some sort of mind trick? What had he been up to, another attempt to blow him to pieces? Dib couldn't help the gears that started turning in his head.

Zim grew silent again, visible puffs of breath dissipating into the cold air. He retreated and rocked back on his heels. The silence constricted around them for another good minute or two.

"I don't know what it is you're planning but, if you don't have anything to-"

The tiny invader shifted from foot to foot. His face still bloomed that unnatural color, a nervous gaze quickly averted as he shoved a small cardboard box roughly against the boy's chest.

"Wha-"

"It is custom for you humans to give token of affection to each other's…" Zim raised his free arm and wiggled his fingers in the air, searching for the correct term in his memory bank, "love-filthies."

The sharp edge of the box was poked into his chest again, Dib took the parcel with a trembling hand. "…Yeah."

All at once Zim was close to him again, inquisitive eyes peering up at him through violet lenses. He squinted and bit the inside of his cheek, examining the Dib further. Leaning forward on his tiptoes, Zim brushed unsettlingly close to the stink-head's ear. It was almost humorous the way he shivered in response.

"You should be glad your greatest enemy and future slave master gives you the time of day on such a holiday,"

The sound of the morning bell snapped the tension hanging tight over the air. Without another word, the invader turned on his heel to disappear into the oncoming barrage of students clamoring up the stairs. He did not want to leave the Dib enough time to react to such a public display of civility.

The Dib was left alone in the courtyard still bathed in that uncomfortable stillness, staring dumbly down at the package. The seconds it took for his fingers to fumble around the lid felt long and strained. Inside, nestled safely among old Christmas party napkins, was a single cupcake.

It was a wretched little thing. Upon plucking it from the nest of napkins Dib could see that it had been burnt and dropped many times to the point of crumbling. A peculiar blob of icing on the top was something he could only guess to be a heart.

As he peeled the blackened paper from the cake, Dib could see the razor blades innocently concealed beneath the sickly pink icing.


End file.
